


A Love Without Life

by devdevlin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, Hot and cold tomione, Vampires, dash of romione on the side, guess you’ll have to read to find out, some others who knows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 09:13:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13854690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devdevlin/pseuds/devdevlin
Summary: The witches of Hogwarts, the largest magical congregation left in the northern hemisphere, are dying out, while the infamous vampire Grindelwald and his coven are thriving. And when the witches unknowingly lose their most valuable asset to the other side, it seems all hope is lost... Modern time, vampire AU





	1. Prologue. A Love Without Life

**_None of us really changes over time. We only become more fully what we are._ **

**_\- Anne Rice, The Vampire Lestat_ **

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

_I just don't know who you are anymore._

He ran his hands through his dark hair as he wandered the quiet street, the pain in her voice fresh in his mind.

_This has changed you, and I don't know if I can - I can't do this -_

He clenched his fingers around his scalp, his sharp nails digging hard into his skin.

_Hermione, please -_

_No. I can't - this has to stop. We can't see each other anymore. You're not - you're not_ good -

He groaned as he sped up his pace, as if he only moved fast enough, he could leave the memories behind.

But he struggled to see anything except for her _eyes_ , those brown orbs that used to look to him with love, with complete _devotion._ The very same eyes that, not even an hour ago, had turned on him with _disgust._

_The very same eyes that had walked out._

A soft sound close to a whine escaped his throat as he squeezed his eyes shut, willing the dull ache in his chest to just _stop._

But without her, what was the point? The only reason he had tried, was for her, _Hermione_ , for their life together.

But then he had died, and she had left.

**_Sniff._ **

He froze in his tracks at the quiet sound, one that would have easily been missed by ears any less-keen than his. Eager for a distraction - _any distraction_ _-_ he turned his head slowly and took in a deep breath through his nose, detecting the subtle scent of salt and the sweetness of flavoured alcohol.

Another whiff later, and Tom was following the trail down the cobbled path that ran through the park - the park that should have been long deserted at this hour. Following his nose and his sharp ears, he weaved through the park with silent footsteps to find a young woman seated on a bench underneath a lit lamppost, leaning over and sobbing into her hands.

He cocked his head thoughtfully.

"Excuse me," he began as he stepped closer into the light, the sound of his voice immediately disturbing her sniffs, "but are you all right?"

She sat up straighter on bench as her head snapped up. She wiped her eyes hurriedly, their sadness quickly becoming wariness as she watched him approach.

"Yes," she managed softly with another sniff, "fine. Thank you."

He stepped over without invitation and took up a seat beside her, noticing the way she gripped her bag tightly and scooted as far over on the bench as she could.

"You shouldn't be out alone so late. The city can be dangerous at night."

She sniffed once more but didn't respond. Tom looked down to see her gripping her mobile phone tightly, her knuckles whitening around it.

"A man, I presume? That's gotten you so upset, I mean?" He probed, ignoring her uneasiness at his presence.

She stiffly nodded in agreement while Tom's eyes drifted downward to see the muscles of her shoulders tightly tensed.

"My fiancée broke up with me an hour ago," he commented offhandedly, as if their interaction wasn't still burning a hole in his chest, as if it wasn't eating away at every fibre of his being. "I can relate."

She sniffed once again as she took him in and her expression softened.

"Really?"

"Oh yes."

"...I'm sorry," she said after a pause.

He watched her for a moment, noticing the subtle movement in her shoulders as she relaxed slightly.

_They always came around. A beautiful face and a kind word was all it ever took._

"Thank you."

"Did - did you want to talk about it?"

He let out a short laugh, careful keep to his teeth concealed, and looked toward the lamppost above them, watching as the moths fluttered around the plastic covering of the light.

"It's still quite raw."

"I understand," she said with a stiff nod, following his gaze upward. "I-I was out at a party, you see, down at the pub on Bradford Road? My boyfriend - or rather, _ex-_ boyfriend - asked me to hold onto his phone while he went to the bathroom," she said, looking pointedly over to their right to where the lamplight was reflecting off of a smashed Samsung on the path. "Then he got a text from _Sarah_. Asking him to come over, and - _and_ -"

She broke off to sniff, and brought her sleeve up to wipe under her nose.

"And he _promised_ me he was done with her, but there was a _photo,_ and - she asked him to - to... and she wasn't wearing any... well - you get the idea."

Tom nodded in understanding and brought an arm over the back of the bench behind her. He gently patted her shoulder as she continued to wipe away at her tears.

"That sounds awful," he said, the empathy in his voice very close to genuine.

" _It was,_ " she whimpered softly, rubbing at her cheeks almost feverishly. "I - I'm Mary by the way," she added between sniffs.

"Tom," he said, unwrapping his arm from her shoulders and pushing up off of the bench to move to a stand. "I'm sorry to meet you under such circumstances."

She shook her head. "It's not your fault. It's _Jack,_ the prick -" she trailed off, an awkward smile forming on her lips.

"May I walk you home, Mary?" Tom asked as he stepped in front of her, extending an elbow to help her up from the bench. "It's quite late, I'd hate for something to happen to you on your way."

She nodded and took his elbow, wobbling in her high heels as she stood.

"Thank you," she gushed as they began to the left. "And they say chivalry is dead."

Tom smiled crookedly.

They continued down the path and out onto the street in silence, the quiet rustling of the bushes from the park in the wind filling the silence. Tom unintentionally timed his footsteps with the soft thudding of the smaller woman's heartbeat, and quickly found himself glancing down toward her pale neck. Even in the dim light, his well-trained eye immediately focused onto the sweet spot covering her vein, and was almost mesmerised by the subtle darkening of her skin as her pulse continued to thud beneath the surface.

"Maybe this was meant to happen," Mary said in a brighter voice as they turned to head down a particularly dark side street, successfully pulling Tom from his focus. "Maybe we were meant to meet in this cruel way."

"Perhaps."

As they passed under the next lamppost and entered the next long patch of darkness, Tom slowed their pace.

"Are you sure you don't want to get it off your chest?" She asked quietly. "About your fiancée?"

Tom exhaled heavily as the distraction of Mary's blood flow vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, the aching of his chest returning in full force.

"She said... she said that I'd changed," he started lowly. "That I wasn't the person who she had come to love."

"People change," Mary said with a soft expression, extending an arm to pat his shoulder in the same way he had done to her earlier. Tom almost hummed at the pleasant warmth of her touch. "No one stays the same. That's the way of life."

A soft snort escaped Tom's throat at the irony.

"I suppose that's true," he commented, "but, of course I've changed, I mean - I _died_. How could I not have changed? And I thought she'd understand, I thought she'd... but if _she_ can't understand, then how could _they_?"

"I-I not sure if I follow..." Mary said, a glimmer of her earlier wariness returning to her voice.

"I thought she'd come with me, that we could leave it all here. She said yes after all. She agreed to _forever_ ," he said, a hint of the anger bubbling below the surface escaping in his tone. "Admittedly, forever means a bit more now than it used to, but... isn't that a good thing? We can have the world now, we can have _everything..._ "

He slowed to a stop, pulling his arm back from Mary's grip to run his hands through his hair for the countless time.

"A-are you okay, Tom?" Mary asked warily, her heel scratching loudly on the street as she took a step back from him.

"Or, we _could_ have had everything," he added quietly, clenching his eyes shut, and groaning as he ran his hands back over his face, dragging his nails down his skin almost painfully.

"Look," Tom began again after another long breath, meeting her eyes once more. "I have a confession."

Mary's eyebrows tilted upward questioningly above her wide eyes.

"She's right. I'm not a good person," he stated before frowning. "I mean - I _was,_ once. Good, that is. In another life," he continued with a short step forward. "But now... I find myself constantly torn. My mind wants one thing, but my _blood_ wants another. Even now, I can't help but _argue_ with myself. My _mind_ says, 'take the girl home', while the rest of me is _screaming -_ "

"What are you talking about?" She interrupted, her words quivering as her heel scraped the stone of the gutter.

"Oh, forgive me, I digress," he said, stepping closer as a warm smile returned to his lips. "What I meant to say is; I'm going to kill you."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys omg. I don't know why I did this, but I sorta kinda don't mind it??? I've been toying with this original vampire story in my head for YEARS (like no joke, since I was 15 (I'm 25 now and still obsessed with it lolllll)) but I've always struggled to get it down into writing. But I had this snippet, and decided to vamp it up a bit (hurrhurr) and change my characters to Tom and Hermione, because if I'm never going to write it then why not?
> 
> And maaaaaaan, it kinda works?? Idk?? I'm feeling some things??
> 
> Also, check out my Tumblr, maybe? If you want? devdevlin.tumblr.com :)


	2. The Jester

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHA 'this'll just be a one-shot', I told myself. 'I just need to get it out of my system'.
> 
> HAHAHAHA, I'm a damn liar

*****

"Where the bloody hell have you been?" Demanded Draco as soon as Tom strode through the living room.

"Does it matter?"

"I'd at least like to know what I'm covering for you for!" Draco yelled as he stood from his place on the couch and followed after Tom.

Tom rolled his eyes.

"I'll have you know, one of these days, Grindelwald's going to have my neck, and it'll be _completely_ your fa-" Draco broke off suddenly as he pulled Tom to a stop, a look of suspicion crossing his features. "Why do you smell like a dead woman?"

"How incredibly polite of you."

"No," he said, following as Tom pulled himself from his grip and headed down the hallway toward his bedroom. "Did you make a kill? On your _own?_ "

"What's it to you?"

"' _What's it to me_ ' _,_ Grindelwald will kill us for it, that's what it is to me! You'll drag _me_ down along with you!"

"Please, Grindelwald couldn't bear to be rid of me. Not for a _muggle._ You know that."

"Yes, well that's all well and good for _you_ , but he'll come after _me_ without so much as batting an eyelash!"

"No, he won't."

"Oh, and I suppose _you'll_ make sure of that? When you're off god only knows where all night long? They came looking for you, you know. _Twice!_ They nearly broke down the door! I could be dead for hours before you were any wiser!"

"He won't kill you," Tom repeated with a hint of irritation as he pulled his dirtied shirt over his head.

"Yeah and I wouldn't be too sure of that!"

"He _won't_ ," Tom repeated with a tone of finality.

Draco snorted and glanced down to the dried blood smeared down Tom's chest, before murmuring " _prick_ ," and leaving the room.

*

Harry and Ron had grown accustomed to the sound of their roommate crying. For _six months_ , Hermione's intermittent sobbing had echoed through their upstairs hallway. Their roommate had become a recluse, showing herself for little more than for food, showers, and using the bathroom.

But she hadn't always been like that. No, it was only for the last three-quarters of the year.

Only since Tom had died.

Upon their first meeting, years ago, when Harry had introduced his childhood best friend to Hermione, the pair had immediately hated each other. They were far too similar, Dumbledore had said, like two positively charged magnets. Both headstrong, both frighteningly intelligent, both with an unknown limit as to how far they could take their magic. And so, for a long while, it had been difficult to be in the same room with them. But somewhere along the line, somewhere that Harry wasn't quite able to pinpoint, it had changed. Somehow, their hate had turned into something else, and a very short few months after that, Tom had proposed.

And _then,_ it had been difficult to be around them for a whole different reason. But, Harry was happily able to endure it, for in all their years of friendship, he had never seen Hermione, or Tom for that matter, so happy.

It was just a shame that it hadn't lasted longer.

The night that Tom died was a hard one on everyone, and was one that Harry tried not to think about very often.

The students had lost their Defence teacher. Harry had lost his best friend. Dumbledore had lost the man he thought of as his son. Hermione had lost the love of her life.

In a matter of hours, their happy lives had all gone to hell.

It had taken months for all involved to recover after that, but it had been a particularly hard time for Hermione. It took months for her to start venturing back out of her room, months for her to start joining them for dinners again. But, gradually, as time slowly healed their wounds, the trio fell into a new routine.

Harry wasn't an idiot; he could easily tell that it was her friendship with Ron that helped pull her through it for the most part. Over the last few months, they had grown far closer than they had ever been, and Harry was almost beginning to feel like the third wheel around them.

He knew how Ron felt. Harry had seen the way Ron had been for the short while he and Lavender had been an item. It was easy to see. And although he was sure Hermione knew it too, she never tried to distance herself from their red-headed friend.

She was being selfish, but Harry fully understood that she _needed_ to be. It wouldn't last forever. She would move on from her grief eventually, even if it took years. Maybe something more would eventuate between her and Ron, after enough time.

The three roommates were just beginning to adjust to their new dynamic, and were finally able to see the dim light through the end of the tunnel.

But then, nine months on since Tom's death, and a solid two months since Hermione's sobs had echoed through the house, their routine came tumbling back down once more.

*

Tom sighed loudly as he made his way down the dark street toward the pub known affectionately as 'The Jester'.

It was the only place in the city he was welcome these days.

The hidden pub was home to Hogsmeade's local coven, what was probably the largest group of vampires in the northern hemisphere. This fact, along with the pub itself, was a well-kept secret. One which only remained a secret thanks to Grindelwald's strictly enforced set of laws;

 _1._ _One is to never_ _reveal_ _their_ _vampirism._  
 _2._ _One is never_ _to_ _travel in groups larger than five._

And, most importantly,

_3._ _One is never to_ _kill_ _their_ _food._

Even with it's single exception of _witches,_ Rule Three was by far the least popular among those of the coven. Feeding from their healthy supply of donor blood bags provided by Grindelwald's deal with the muggles was seen as downright insulting, and feeding from their muggle volunteers was barely seen as a better option.

Because how was one to enjoy their life as a vampire without the thrill of the kill?

In his nine months of vampirism, Tom had seen numerous others outside of Grindelwald's inner circle break Rule Three, and had seen all of them executed for it.

All except for him.

If it wasn't for Grindelwald's growing fancy of him, he was positive that he would have been killed months ago, a fact that _gnawed_ away at him. He resented it with a passion; as a young child, he had learned to _never_ to rely on anyone else, but now it'd been forced upon him, and he was forced to do Grindelwald's dirty work for his ensured survival.

It was _degrading._

He sighed dejectedly once more as he reached the end of the dingy alleyway, and pushed the large wooden panel of the old building open, revealing a well-hidden door. He quickly pushed the heavy door open and slinked inside.

The smell of blood mixed with alcohol and sweat filled his nostrils the moment he entered the dark pub, the thumping music loud enough to vibrate through his chest. He ignored the glares he received as he pushed through the crowd of vampires, having grown used to them very early on after Grindelwald took him in.

Because thanks to his blood, he would, forever be, the _outsider._

" _The witch returns!_ "

Tom rolled his eyes at the entirely predictable announcement and tried to ignore the urge to throttle Antonin. What he would give for the chance to rip his throat out.

His, and half of the others in the fucking place.

He continued through the rowdy crowd toward the back of the pub, toward the large booth that was always reserved for one man. He stepped up onto the raised flooring toward it, and felt the chilling stare of his cold eyes before he saw them.

"Tom," greeted Grindelwald from the back of the booth with a nod of his head. The vampire sat with his arms extended across the back of the seating, with his select group of companions sitting perpendicularly to him. His dark robes complimented his almost-white blonde hair and pale eyes dramatically, his pale skin resembling that of a ghost.

Tom bowed in front of the booth theatrically, one arm across his chest with the other out stretched.

"We've missed you," Grindelwald continued.

"My sincerest apologies," said Tom smoothly as he straightened.

"Where have you been?"

"I have been tied up with personal matters as of late-"

"Back off with your witches?" A deep voice from beside Grindelwald asked. "I told you he was a _traitor_."

Tom sent a stony glare in at the dark-haired man.

"Now, now, Rodolphus, we mustn't point fingers," Grindelwald scolded in a deceptively sweet tone. "Tom wouldn't betray us, not after _everything_ we've done for him. _Would you?_ "

"You know I wouldn't dream of it."

"His word means nothing!" Rodolphus spat in protest. " _Once_ a witch, _always_ a witch."

"Ah, but we can put our dear Tom's loyalty to the test, can we not?" Asked Grindelwald rhetorically, rising to a stand.

The vampires seated at the booth cheered in agreement, Rodolphus' scowl slowly growing into a smirk.

Grindelwald stepped out from the booth to where Tom stood, placing an arm around his shoulder, and directed them down into the heart of the pub toward the bar.

"I'm sorry to do this, but I do hope you understand the awkward position you've put me in," said Grindelwald grimly before gesturing across the bar. Tom remained stoic knowing he should've expected as much, and watched as the barman nodded in Grindelwald's direction before turning to the back room and signalling.

Shortly after, a group of three more vampires entered from the back room, and made their way through the crowded bar, pushing along a slumped figure before them. Reaching the centre of the room, they threw their hostage forward, laughing as he fell onto his knees.

The music in the pub was quietened as the telltale smell of spice filled the air, and Tom didn't need to look at their hostage to know they had brought in a witch.

No, as the crowd quietened, he was sure everyone in the pub knew they had brought in a witch.

" _Ah,_ a fine young specimen," Grindelwald praised with a chilling smile, leaving Tom as he circled to inspect the hunched over witch. "Well done, Amycus."

The dark-haired prisoner pulled back as Grindelwald took his jaw in his hand and forced him to look up. He fought against his hold, pulling his arms against the rope holding them behind his back, but gave up on his struggle rather quickly before he spat at the vampire.

"My, _my,_ he has spirit," Grindelwald commented with a grin as he released the witch's chin and wiped the spit from the front of his robe. " _Wonderful._ Would you care to do the honours, then?"

The cold, blue eyes of Grindelwald turned to focus on Tom expectantly. The witch followed his gaze.

"... _Tom?_ "

Tom ignored the stare of his former student who he easily recognised by his voice alone - Cedric Diggory - as he glanced back over to Grindelwald.

" _Tom?_ " Cedric tried again. "We thought you were _dead_ , we thought -"

Tom nodded slightly to Grindelwald, so subtly that it almost went unnoticed. Still ignoring Cedric's words, Tom slowly approached where Cedric kneeled and moved to a low crouch in front of the boy, their eyes level.

" _Tom, please._ You have to get help. Leave me here if you must, but _get word to Hogwarts,_ _please -_ "

"It's alright, Diggory," he said soothingly, with a light touch to the man's shoulder. "Don't worry. I'll help you."

A small flare of hope glistened in Cedric's eyes.

"Don't worry," Tom repeated, more gently than the first time, "it won't hurt for long."

Cedric's eyes widened as Tom smiled, showing the boy his teeth, before he rose to his feet and stepped around him. " _What? No. No, please-_ "

With a movement resembling a viper, Tom struck.

Just as Grindelwald had first told him, the taste of a witch was like nothing else on earth. _Leagues_ better than any muggle, the blood of a witch was _laced_ with life, immediately spreading warmth from head to toe of the drinker. For a vampire, one who had become accustomed to the cold, detached feeling of death, the temporary sensation of feeling alive was... _euphoric._

Tom moaned low in his throat as he drank deeply, the familiar taste of the blood bringing him back to the last time he had experienced it.

_With her. Hermione._

_She had bucked beneath him, had screamed in protest against his palm covering her mouth as his teeth pierced her skin. But he did not stop,_ could _not stop, not when he was so close. Not when her tensing muscles made her feel so much_ tighter.

_He hadn't wanted to hurt her, hadn't intended on it. But the vampire within him couldn't resist. He only had so much self-restraint, and a naked, writhing witch, neck flushed with blood from her climax moments earlier, was simply a temptation he was not able to withstand._

As the blood flow in his current victim began to slow down, and Cedric's body slowly stopped struggling in his hold and no longer held its own weight, Tom released him. Cedric slumped forward, falling face first as Tom stepped back, throwing his head back as the witch's blood rushed to his head.

_And how magical it was._

Another soft moan escaped him as he closed his eyes and allowed himself to fully experience the warm blood flowing through his system as if it were his own.

_As if he were alive once more._

Grindelwald stood feet away, watching with hunger as the stray drops of blood trailed down Tom's jaw, down his neck, and down underneath his shirt. Slowly, he brought his hands together, starting a slow clap.

" _That's my boy._ "

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omggggg I have a problem. After starting, I just couldn't stop! I know I knoooww I have a long overdue WIP, but this just needed to be written D:  
> Hopefully you like it though?? Maybe?? I have this huge backstory in my head, so I apologise if this is confusing as all hell, hopefully it will all clear up soon!  
> Just to clear a few things up, this is an AU. Also, Hogsmeade is now a large, modern city, okay thanks.


	3. Chapter 2. The Hunt

  
  
"-got a clue what Dumbledore's thinking, there's no _room_ for all of bloody Durmstrang to stay here," Ron complained late the next morning.

"Safety in numbers and all that," Harry said groggily, taking a bite from his second slice of toast. "Extra protection now that our numbers have dropped below ten thous-"

He broke off as Hermione padded down the stairs and crossed the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge.

Having been up for the most of the previous night listening to the sounds of her crying thanks to the thin walls of their house, Ron and Harry exchanged a quick questioning glance. They watched as she pondered her options before deciding on a red apple.

Harry cleared his throat.

"Are you alright?" Harry eventually asked.

"Yep," she answered shortly without looking at them.

"Did... did you wanna talk about it?"

"Nope."

Harry frowned. Ron shrugged.

Hermione crossed back through the kitchen, apple in hand, and pulled her jacket from where it hung on the hook by the front door.

"I'm heading out for a while," she said, pulling the front door open.

"Did you want some company?" Ron asked, rushing out of his chair at the dining table.

"No," she answered quickly, closing the front door behind her without giving him the chance to offer again.

Hermione exhaled heavily as she headed down the steps of the front porch and headed up the cobbled street of the Hogwarts grounds toward the castle. The cool air of the morning was refreshing on her skin, soothing on the red patch under her nose that was sore from all of the tissues she had gone through the night before.

She headed up to the second floor without interruption, straight for the training room, grateful to find it empty upon her arrival. She dumped her jacket in the corner, leaving her wand sitting neatly on top of it, and moved to the centre of the room.

_Focus_ , Tom would have said. _Breathe._

She sat on the solid floor, crossing her legs underneath her, and relaxed the muscles of her back as she attempted to channel her magic.

Her magic was her favourite escape. Over the last year, she had developed the habit of conjuring her magic to comfort her, almost like a warm, comforting shield charm, as form of meditation. It hadn't taken her long; in fact, she'd managed to first cast the spell somewhat by accident. Her spell of her own invention didn't have yet have an incantation, something she was quite proud of. 

Without an incantation, it was _hers._

But, she realised with an impatient sigh, _it wasn't working._

She groaned as she failed to conjure the spell once more, and brought her hands up to rub her eyes, accepting the fact that she was far too distracted for the magic to come to her.

The confrontation she'd had with Tom the night before was just too raw. She could barely think of anything else, his look of pain _haunting_ her every time she closed her eyes. She shouldn't have hidden. He'd chased after her, and she'd cast a disillusionment charm like the coward she was. And now that his connection to his magic had been severed, he hadn't had a hope of finding her in the darkness after she'd silenced her footsteps.

She was a coward, completely undeserving of the Gryffindor name.

_But,_ she told herself as she tried to push her heavy feeling of regret away, _she'd done the right thing. She couldn't sneak around anymore. He either came back into her life completely, or not at all. And he'd made his decision clear._

_He wasn't coming back._

Still even without the regret, the _guilt_ was _nagging_ at her, eating away at her conscience like a termite through timber. Harry and Ron had a right to know. Dumbledore had a right to know. Hell, _everyone_ here had a right to know, and she was lying to all of them.

But there was just something about the thought of them knowing what had happened to Tom and what he had become, that _unsettled_ her.

Besides, Tom had _asked_ her not to tell them. _It would do more harm than good,_ he had said, _they're better off thinking me dead._ He'd then gone on to insist that they wouldn't understand, that they'd only think of him as the enemy. 

And it wasn't as if his concerns were unfounded. _Yes_ , the war between the witches and the vampires had been ongoing for centuries now. _True,_ witch numbers had now dropped to an all time low.

But surely, they'd understand. This was a different case. This wasn't just another vampire. This was _Tom._ He was one of them, a teacher, a _son_ , a friend.

He wasn't _evil._

_True,_ he had bitten her. But it wasn't as if he had _intended_ on it. When she came to, he _apologised._ Normal vampires wouldn't _apologise,_ and he'd even gone to the effort of healing her. She'd known the risks, she'd known what his diet had become, and had chosen to follow him anyway.

No, even if he wasn't the same man he used to be, he _definitely_ wasn't evil.

But... they had a right to know. She couldn't let her emotions cloud her judgement any longer, and she had lied to them long enough. She had a duty to her people.

And so, she made a spare of the moment decision. She had to tell them what had become of Tom. 

*

"Good afternoon, Professor," Hermione greeted, taking the seat opposite the headmaster that he had gestured to.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger," he greeted  warmly. "I confess I was surprised when you requested our meeting. It's been a rather long time, after all."

"I suppose it has," she agreed hesitantly, picking at her nails anxiously. "I'm sorry about that. It wasn't-"

"You have absolutely no need to explain. I understand."

She smiled uncertainly out of the corner of her mouth. "Thank you. I-about _this_ meeting though... I had some things to discuss with you. It-its about Tom."

"Indeed?" Dumbledore's expression had become  an odd blend of curiosity and concern, likely owing to the fact that  she hadn't so much as uttered Tom's name with him since his death.

"Yes. About the day he-he died," she managed, unsure of how to start. 

Dumbledore didn't say anything as a box of tissues nudged itself across the table toward her, seemingly of it's own accord.

"I don't think he-" she tried, "what I mean to say, is that he didn't-didn't _exactly_ -"

" _Professor_ ," a deep voice interrupted from behind Hermione. "We're ready to go."

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said to the intruder, slowly rising from his seat.

"I'm so very sorry to stop you there, Miss Granger," he said apologetically as he stepped around his desk. "But we  have a bit of a rather urgent... _rescue_ mission planned for this evening. Mr. Diggory  and his team never made it back to the grounds last night."

" _Oh,_ " she said with a tone of surprise as her stomach dropped. " _None_ of them?"

"No. All four remain missing," he said grimly. 

She nodded. "But, there's still hope that we'll find them?"

"We've got a small team of our best Aurors put together, but... it's not overly promising."

Hermione found her mind momentarily blank. She'd been rather fond of Cedric.

"I-I'm very sorry to hear that," she said sadly, following him to a stand as her mind rebooted. 

"As I am sorry to say it. May I suggest that we reschedule our discussion for tomorrow morning?" Dumbledore suggested as he gestured to the door. 

Hermione nodded, slightly relieved that she could have just one more night without her mentor thinking her a liar.

"Excellent."

*

" _Tom Riddle_ ," the dark-haired vampire greeted as she slithered into the barstool next to him.

Tom watched his blood-laced whisky circle in his glass slowly before turning to meet her dark eyes. "Bella," he greeted.

"You're looking awfully lonely over here," she commented, scooting her stool closer until it's legs collided with his.

"Perhaps that was by design," he said dryly.

Bellatrix crossed one leg over the other, her exposed thigh brushing against his intentionally as she did so.

"I thought that I might offer you a little _cheering up._ "

Tom raised his glass to his lips, throwing his head back as he finished the whiskey in a single gulp. "You have my interest."

"We're going out," she said as she leaned in closer and brought a hand up to fondle the buttons of his shirt. " _Hunting,_ " she added in a whisper, barely audible over the music of the pub.

" _Oh?_ "

"You should come with us," she suggested in the same low whisper. "Narcissa, Gellert, and I. Hunts with _us_ are far more... _fulfilling,_ if you catch my drift."

The corner of Tom's mouth twitched upward, strongly tempted by her offer, as he glanced down to Bella's dark nails trailing higher up his chest. He quickly turned to look behind him, easily locating her dark-haired husband engaged in a deep conversation on the other side of the pub. "I don't think Rodolphus would appreciate that very much."

" _Fuck Rodolphus_."

He watched as she slowly walked her fingers up to the opening of his collar, her sharp nails scratching lightly on the skin of his neck. 

As he met her darkly hooded eyes, he broke out in a grin.

*

Grindelwald's cold arm rested heavily on Tom's shoulder as they walked, the sound of his leather boots scratching against the cobbled path loudly with each step.

"Bella and I have a little wager going on, you know," he said lowly, such that Narcissa and Bellatrix could not hear, leaning in towards Tom's ear.

"Oh?"

"It's about you."

Tom scoffed. "Please, _do_ enlighten me."

"Bella thinks she can convince you to fuck her."

A laugh escaped Tom as he glanced in front and watched Bella as she walked hand and hand with Narcissa, her wispy skirt brushing against her pale legs lightly with each step. "And you don't think she can?"

"Oh, without doubt. You'll be in her bed soon enough."

"What's your wager then?"

"That you'll fuck me first."

Tom laughed again, deeper than the first time. Grindelwald's _interests_ were quite well known amongst the coven, and Tom had suspected that Grindelwald's particular interest in him was more than friendly for quite a while. However, this was the first time he'd outrightly _told_ him so.

"I think you've both got a long wait ahead of you," he said eventually.

Tom felt the rumble of Grindelwald's chest as he laughed, his arm still resting heavily around his shoulder.

"You still wear a ring on your finger," Grindelwald commented. "I can't help but wonder _why?_ "

Tom curled his hand into a fist on reflex, the silver band on his ring finger suddenly feeling much heavier.

"No reason," he said without emotion. "It's just a ring."

" _Just a ring,_ " Grindelwald repeated, pondering his words. "So there are no old flames of your past? No special _witches_ you're caught up on?"

"No," he answered immediately, with what might have been an overly defensive tone.

"Forgive me. I understand that these matters can be a touch sensitive to fledglings," Grindelwald said, sounding not the least bit sincere. "But, you needn't worry, we can speak openly of such things. We are _friends_ , yes?"

"Of course."

"And friends help each other, do they not?"

"I suppose."

"Then, I will simply offer, that if there _is_ someone and you wanted help with - let's say - _extending_ their lifespan, then, _perhaps_ -"

A whistle from Bellatrix ahead of them caught Grindelwald's attention, distracting him from the topic at hand.

"There," she whispered quietly, pointing through the trees deeper into the park to where three humans were sitting in a circle, passing a dirtied bottle with a short piece of hose stuck through it between them.

"Well then," said Grindelwald, unwrapping his arm from across Tom's shoulders. "What are we waiting for?"

*

The haunting screams of the young stoners echoed through the dark park, waking and scaring off the birds from their homes in the nearby trees. 

"Don't you want to share?" Bella asked, releasing her bite on the particularly dirty looking young man. He swayed in her tight grip, no longer having the energy to fight her and seemingly about to pass out from the blood loss.

" _No,_ I think I'd rather not," Tom refused with a crinkled nose. "I prefer my food to have showered in the last week."

" _Please,_ as if you're any better than us," Bella said with a small roll of her eyes before she dug her teeth back into the boy's neck.

Tom looked to his other side to see Grindelwald holding another of the boys up against a thick tree, his victim's neck bent out at an unnatural angle. 

_One of the few benefits of Grindelwald's friendship. Rule Three was null and void in his company. In fact, the most notorious breaker of the rule was Grindelwald himself._

Tom leaned back against another tree lazily as he watched his companions, a small smile forming on his lips as he watched Narcissa's victim whimpering and struggling against her hold. He hadn't yet met another vampire who liked to play with their food to the same extent as she did. Although he didn't share in her preferences, he could still appreciate a fine art when he saw one.

A loud crack suddenly echoed through the park, Tom's muscles tensing at the familiar sound.

" _Oh!_ " Bella exclaimed excitedly, dropping her now dead victim onto the grass. "Here come the _cavalry!_ "

The characteristic scent of spice that filled the air brought with it a heavy sense of dread, as it always did. 

_What if it was her this time?_

_What if he couldn't protect her?_

And worse still, _what if Grindelwald found out about her?_

But, besides the risk of running into Hermione, encountering witches that recognised him was an uncomfortable situation he always tried to avoid. The only one who currently knew he was still _alive_ in a manner of speaking, was Hermione, and he had the full intention on keeping it that way. He had only been spotted three times now; once, by Diggory (and he'd managed to solve that problem well enough). The second time, by an older Auror, Myrtle Warren (and he'd seen that that problem was solved, too). And the last time, by Hermione herself.

On that instance, he'd opted for removing the _vampire_ witnesses instead.

But this time, as he spun on his heel and took in the four Aurors approaching them through the trees, he quickly noticed that _she_ wasn't there, and he could breathe again.

That was, until he met the familiar green eyes of Harry Potter.


	4. Chapter 3. The Fallout

**_You can have my isolation,_**  
**_You can have the hate that it brings,_**  
**_You can have my absence of faith,_**  
**_You can have my everything_**

**_\- Nine Inch Nails, Closer_ **

* * *

 

* * *

" _Mione_."

Hermione twitched, but did not wake.

"Hermione."

"Hmm..."

" _Hermione._ "

Her eyes popped open at the sensation of being shaken.

" _Ron?_ " She asked groggily. "What is it?"

"Harry hasn't come back."

" _What?_ "

She threw the covers back and forced herself upright, little care for the fact that she was only wearing a thin singlet without a bra with her pyjama bottoms.

"I didn't want to wake you, but it's just turned six. They should have been back by midnight..."

"No, don't worry about it," she said, hurrying out of the bed, crossing the room quickly and pulling her sweater over her shoulders. "Have you seen Professor Dumbledore?"

"Not yet."

"Come on, then," she said as she slipped her shoes on.

The pair made the trek up through the grounds to the castle in a tense silence, neither willing to voice their fears. For how could they? Even though they'd had more experience burying loved ones than anyone their age should have, each one still hurt the same as the first. Neither could fathom the thought of losing _Harry._

Harry was their best friend. He was family. He couldn't be _gone._

As they made it to the familiar gargoyle on the third floor, Ron skidded to a halt and turned to Hermione questioningly. Had she not been in such a hurry, she would have rolled her eyes.

" _Oddsbodikins_."

The gargoyle jumped aside, and Hermione led the way up the circular stairs. A strong sense of relief, so strong that it was nearly overwhelming, coursed through her as they neared the top landing and the sound of Harry's raised voice echoed down through the stairwell.

" _It was him, I swear it!_ "

Her relief was short lived. As soon as she processed Harry's words and what they might've meant, her stomach dropped.

"Harry, grief can play tricks on the mind. You might have thought it was Tom, but-"

" _I grew up with him!_ " Harry interrupted Dumbledore's gentle tone in a bellow. " _He was a brother to me! I think I'd know him when I saw him!_ "

"What the bloody hell are you yelling about?" Ron asked as he overtook Hermione, and strode into the office, leaving her frozen in the doorway.

Dumbledore stroked his long beard in thought as Harry sighed loudly.

"Last night - a few hours ago - while we were tracking Diggory's team, we ran into a small group of vampires," Harry began, starting to pace the confined office. "There were three of them, they'd attacked some humans. But among them... I could have _sworn_... _Tom_ was there. The way he looked at me... it had to have been him, he _recognised_ me."

"Mate-"

"And then, while the vampires immediately came at us, he stayed back, as if he were frozen. While the blonde one went for Moody, another one, a dark-haired female, came at me. And then, Tom, he... he _tackled_ her, and they almost seemed to forget about Sirius and I. They turned on him and started fighting amongst themselves, and Sirius pulled me back, and we managed to apparate away."

Ron turned back to glance at Hermione, his wary expression mirroring Dumbledore's.

Hermione's blood ran cold.

"But we need to go back!" Harry insisted as he turned back to Dumbledore, the determination they knew him for clear in his eyes. "We need to find him... maybe he's alright, Tom was always the best dueller we had. Maybe he managed to fight them off, maybe he's not-"

"Harry," Dumbledore started, "There were witnesses to his death, _Hermione_ witnessed his death. While it may have been someone who resembled Tom, it can't have-"

"Well, then they're _wrong!_ I _know_ what I saw!"

"I want to believe you, you know that I do. But we can't ignore the _facts_ -"

"He's right," Hermione interrupted calmly in a small voice, all sets of eyes in the room turning to her. "Harry's right."

The room fell silent, the soft rustling of the enchanted paintings behind Dumbledore's desk almost screeching to a halt.

A lump formed in her throat. Her stomach tightened, threatening to empty its contents. This wasn't how she'd planned for this to go, she had intended on telling them _privately,_ one-by-one to give them the time and space they needed to handle the truth. She'd known Harry would have the hardest time handling the news, and she'd planned on telling him far more tactfully.

"Hermione..." Ron started softly, breaking the silence.

_Not like this._

"I-he didn't want you to know," she started quietly, glancing down to focus on her hands. She turned the ring - _his ring_ \- on her finger. "I wanted to tell you, I was _going_ to-"

"You _knew_ that Tom's alive?" Harry asked gently, taking a small step forward.

"It's not-"

"You _knew_ this whole time?!" His voice grew demanding.

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She searched out for understanding, her eyes meeting Dumbledore's and Ron's, but found nothing but confusion. Nothing but _hurt._

"Harry-"

" _You knew and still you let us believe he was dead?!_ "

She winced at the sharpness of his words. "I made a _promise_."

" _Do you_ _think you were the only one who was hurting?!_ "

" _No,_ and I'm sorry-"

" _He's my brother! And you-_ "

"He doesn't want to come back!" She yelled back, effectively silencing Harry. "He doesn't think he _can._ "

Dumbledore pushed his chair back from his desk, the legs scraping loudly against the stone tiles. He breathed deeply while slowly removing the short hat from his head, and in that instant, Hermione knew that he was the only one in the room who had put it together.

"What do you mean, _he doesn't think he can_ , of course-"

"Harry-"

"-he can, this is his _home_ , we're _family_ , he _belongs_ -"

"Tom is a vampire, isn't he?" Dumbledore asked gently, bringing Harry's tirade to a complete stop.

The temperature in the room plummeted as time seemed to momentarily stand still.

Hermione swallowed.

"Yes."

*

As the familiar leather boot collided with his jaw for the third time, Tom was resolute.

_He was going to kill Grindelwald._

To hell with the ramifications. To hell with his protection. To hell with his deal with the humans.

_He was going to bathe in his blood._

"After all I've done for you," Grindelwald scathed. "After all _we've_ done for you, you still have the _gall_ to disobey me!" His voice grew to a yell, the small group of his closest followers around him cheering at his words.

Tom spat the cold, thick blood that slowly oozed into his mouth from his cheek.

" _Have you so quickly forgotten just who it was that made you?_ "

He didn't respond.

" _Have you?!_ " His words were punctuated by another kick, one hard enough to push Tom from his knees to the ground.

A growl escaped Tom as he forced himself back up. "No," he forced out after another spit, the word tasting of acid.

" _Hmm?_ I'm afraid I missed that."

" _No._ "

Grindelwald scoffed and stepped closer, dropping to a crouch to level his head with Tom's.

"What was so special about him?" He questioned gently, his voice mocking. "About _that_ one? The witch you thought worth... defending?"

Tom felt the cold eyes boring into him, but refused to look up.

" _Hmm?_ " Grindelwald reached out and lifted Tom's chin with more force than was necessary.

" _Nothing_ ," Tom spat in a whisper.

"'Nothing'?" Grindelwald questioned loudly, releasing Tom's chin forcefully and turning to the vampires surrounding them. "' _Nothing_ ' _?_ And yet you broke Bella's arm! For _nothing?!_ "

Tom met Grindelwald's eyes and _smiled_ , his blood staining his teeth. "Just a bit of fun," he said jaggedly, slowly. "They'll come looking for me now. Besides, you know how she likes it rough," he added with a short laugh, glancing over to where Bella stood watching with her head cocked to the side.

Grindelwald scoffed and followed his eyeline, looking to Bellatrix.

"What say you, Bella?"

She grinned down toward Tom and slowly approached, crouching down to kneel in front of him.

"Yes. Just a bit of fun," she said sweetly, running her uninjured hand down Tom's jaw, stopping to run her fingers across his lips. She pulled them back and took a moment to watch how his dark blood glistened in the light before bringing her fingers to her mouth to taste.

"You know I didn't mean it," Tom drawled quietly, watching intently as she sucked on her finger, "don't you?"

She flashed her teeth in a grin and shifted closer, moving her lips to his ear. "Oh, I know you meant it," she whispered, quietly enough for only him to hear, and gently bit down on his earlobe. "You didn't want me to hurt the boy with the green eyes."

Tom winced at the sharp scratch of her tooth.

"But don't worry, love. I won't tell."

Grindelwald pulled his lip between his teeth, and watched their interaction, his gaze stuck on the man - _the boy_ , really.

 _Oh, how he reminded him of himself. Young, foolish, intelligent, but most of all,_ stubborn _. All of the exact traits that made him a threat. He should kill him now, just as he should have done on the first night the Malfoy boy brought him home._

_But such potential..._

_Such waste..._

As Tom glanced up from behind Bella's best of hair and met his eyes, he could _see_ the cogs of Grindelwald's mind turning, he could _see_ the internal dilemma.

 _And he could see the moment he'd won_.

"Betray me _one more time_ ," Grindelwald began slowly, holding Tom's eye contact, "and I'll find your witch - _the boy who lived_ \- and I'll tear his heart out while you watch."

*

Draco cringed as he picked up the bloodied shirt that had been dumped onto his couch with a single finger. Keeping the shirt, which had now dried _solid_ , at an arm's length away, he stepped through to the kitchen and dropped it into the bin.

_Just who the hell did he think he was? This wasn't even his house._

He sighed out of irritation and pulled the fridge open, his gaze immediately dropping to the third shelf down, where a single blood bag sat in the place where there used to be three. He stared at the lonely bag angrily.

_Fucking freeloader._

After a moment, he grabbed the bag and took it with him back to the couch. He fell into the soft chair, and leaned back and brought his feet up, tearing the blood bag open from the small tube protruding from the top. He threw his head back and let the cold fluid flow into his mouth by the force of gravity.

There was just something more _natural_ about letting it flow as opposed to sucking.

He hummed in satisfaction as he emptied the bag, and closed his eyes as the pleasant rush of endorphins from the blood circulated through his body.

The rush was all too short, however, as it always was with older blood. His irritation soon returned to him, coming back almost as quickly as it had gone.

 _Something had to change,_ he thought to himself bitterly. _Ever since Tom had moved in, his life had become far too difficult. Sure, it had been no party_ before _he had found Tom, but_ still. _He drank all of his blood, with no bother to replace it. He left his dirty clothes all over the apartment. He'd come back at ridiculous hours reeking of witches and stinking up the apartment. Grindelwald's thugs were frequently bashing the door in looking for him._

_And he didn't even pay rent!_

A sudden loud thudding on the door interrupted Draco from his bitter thoughts.

"Wonderful," he commented dryly to himself.

As whoever was at the door pounded for the second time, Draco groaned and pushed up from the couch, leaving the empty blood bag on the coffee table. He jogged up the stairs and unlatched the heavy door.

"What d'you- _no, no, no, no!_ "

Draco immediately backed up into the apartment as the spice filled the air, very nearly falling arse over tit down the stairs behind him. He raised his arms with his palms forward, eyes widening as a very old looking witch with a long, silver beard stepped across the threshold, wand raised. Two other witches stood either side of him, both in the same stance as the older witch.

" _I didn't do anything! Please, I-I don't kill, I promise! Do I look like a killer to you?! Please-_ "

"We're not here for you," the bushy-haired woman interrupted from beside the old man. "Is Tom here?"

Draco's attention snapped to her, and he immediately narrowed his eyes, the feeling of _familiarity_ washing over him.

_He knew her from somewhere..._

"I-" he started, unsure of how to handle his current predicament. He didn't very much like the idea of three witches making their way into his apartment, but... perhaps the solution to his problems with his housemate had quite literally just knocked on his front door. "Wait here," he instructed, eventually coming to a decision.

He dashed back down the stairs and crossed the apartment in a hurry while pondering how exactly the witches found out where to find Tom. He sighed and relaxed his shoulders as he approached Tom's bedroom, grateful for the growing distance between himself and the witches.

"Oi, Tom," Draco said as he pushed through his housemates bedroom door. " _Fucking hell, Tom!_ " He added as he shook Tom from where he lay asleep on top of the covers of his bed.

Tom grunted and rolled over.

"You have _visitors_ ," he tried, persisting with his shaking. " _Tom!_ "

He let out a louder groan and sat up in the bed.

"Who is it?" He asked groggily as he pushed himself up and pulled on a shirt.

"Old friends of yours, I suspect," he said dryly, before looking downward and scowling. On the carpet next to Tom's bed sat two emptied blood bags.

"Jesus, what happened to you?" Draco asked as he looked back up to see Tom step into the light. Heavy bruising lined his jaw, the faint shadow of a black eye lingering around his right eye.

"None of your business," Tom snapped as he shrugged on his jacket and stepped around his housemate.

_*_

"Gross," Harry said with a scowl, staring pointedly at the emptied blood bag sitting on the living room coffee table.

"At least it's from a bag," Hermione commented, stepping down from the bottom step into the living room.

Harry glanced away, pointedly ignoring her comment. "I don't think we should be here. What if it's not just the blonde here? It could be a trap, we should just go while we still can-"

Dumbledore raised a hand to silence him, eliciting a soft scoff from Harry. He stepped back and leaned against the staircase.

"You didn't have to come," Hermione reminded him, her irritation plain. "You chose to."

Harry rolled his eyes.

Hermione sighed and took the chance to look around the dark apartment. Tom had brought her there once before, the second time she had met up with him, but it hadn't been for long, and he'd taken her straight through to his bedroom, so she hadn't had the chance to inspect.

It was well furnished, and the kitchen alone must have cost a small fortune, but was in a state of disarray. There were dishes scattered throughout the kitchen and the surfaces of the living room, assorted pieces of clothing were scattered around the place, cigarette butts that had been put out in drinking glasses, with the stale smell of cigarette smoke lingering in the air.

_Nothing like the pristinely clean house Tom had kept when he'd lived with her at Hogwarts._

All three heads turned up as a figure stepped out from the hallway. From her periphery, Hermione noticed Harry stiffen.

Tom stopped in the doorway, but didn't seem surprised by their presence. He didn't flinch upon seeing them, didn't bat an eyelash. If it weren't for the way his nostrils flared out minutely, Hermione would have thought he had been expecting them.

"Tom?" Dumbledore asked gently, taking a hesitant step forward.

Tom's jaw tightened as his dark eyes moved between them, falling on Hermione last.

"You shouldn't have come here," he said lowly with a cold stare that was almost accusatory, his mouth barely moving as he spoke.

"Tom-"

"Put your wands on the counter," he instructed, cutting off Dumbledore.

Before Harry could protest, Dumbledore raised his hands in a submissive gesture and stepped to the right toward the bar of the kitchen, placing his wand atop of it. Hermione followed suit. Harry strongly considered refusing, but sighed after a moment and placed his alongside Hermione's.

Seemingly satisfied, Tom slowly stepped into the room and took up a seat on the couch where Draco had been sitting moments earlier.

"I suppose you want to talk," he commented, gesturing to the second couch across from him. "Sit."

Again, Dumbledore led the way and Hermione and Harry followed suit, taking up the spots either side of them, with Harry brushing off the ash from his side of the couch. As they sat, Hermione met Tom's eyes once more and the silence in the dark apartment quickly grew tense.

"It's good to see you again, Tom," Dumbledore said pleasantly, as if the building tension were nothing.

Something akin to a scoff rumbled from Tom's chest. "And you," he said slowly, his dark eyes glancing between the three of them.

"I must apologise," Dumbledore said, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Had we known of your circumstances and whereabouts, we would have contacted you sooner."

His words were answered by another scoff as the tension grew.

"You look like you've seen better days," Dumbledore commented, referring to the bluing bruising along Tom's jaw.

"I'll live," he said with a shadow of a smirk, his eyes glancing to Harry. Harry wasn't looking back, instead leaning on the arm rest of the couch with one arm with his hand covering his eyes.

"Yes, I suppose you will," Dumbledore agreed before silence returned to the room.

Tom met Dumbledore's eyes - the only one of the three that was even looking at him - with an intensity that the older man quickly found uncomfortable.

"I was... very saddened to hear of what happened to you," Dumbledore began. "And even more so to hear that you no longer consider yourself welcome at Hogwarts."

Tom stared at his old mentor blankly for a short moment.

"Would my assumption be incorrect?"

"Of course."

"So, you came all the way out here into an unknown vampire's nest to tell me that you _want_ me to come back?" He questioned incredulously, before letting out a bark of laughter, his sharp canines visible for a brief moment. "To let me know that I'm still welcome in your institute? As if there aren't hundreds up at Hogwarts who would kill me, or lock me up and _study_ me without giving it a second thought?"

"Your situation is... unique," Dumbledore said gently. "I'm sure with the right explanation, the Ministry would come around."

Tom shook his head.

"My connection with my magic has been severed," Tom said, his tone quickly losing its previous amusement. "There is no place for me at Hogwarts. Not anymore."

"But you think there's a place for you here?" Hermione asked, mirroring his incredulous tone, unable to keep quiet any longer.

As his dark eyes turned back to her with a sharp intensity that she hadn't anticipated, she immediately regretted opening her mouth.

"I believe you've made your thoughts on the matter abundantly clear," he snapped coldly, before turning back to Dumbledore.

"There will always be a place for you at Hogwarts," Dumbledore continued. "Surely you know that. The ability to wield magic is not a prerequisite."

In an instant, Tom's coldness vanished once more and his amusement returned.

"And would you have me move in with the squibs?" He asked mockingly with a laugh.

"I understand that it wouldn't be an easy road, but-"

"Or perhaps you would would rather have me become an assistant groundskeeper who can only keep the grounds at night? Work with beasts who cannot bear to merely be in my presence?"

"We can find a solution where all parties involved will be content. You would simply need to allow us to try."

"You've always been a little off-centre, Albus, but _this_..." Tom broke off to laugh again. "Harry agrees with me. Don't you, Harry?"

At the mention of his name, Harry uncovered his eyes and looked up.

"He cannot bear to so much as look at me," Tom observed aloud. "And yet you think the others wouldn't be the same?"

Harry stayed silent, his teeth aching as he clenched his jaw.

"You can't control hundreds - _thousands_ of witches, Albus. While you may manage to rally the school's support, there would be backlash. Not just from the Ministry, either. As soon as word spreads, there would be international outrage. The last documented case of a witch turned vampire was hunted down and _burned alive at a stake_."

"Hundreds of years ago. There was never any proof to the claim. As far as history is concerned, that was just a _story_ -"

"I am not so foolish to believe that my case would be any different. You most certainly shouldn't be either. Ignorance does not become you."

Dumbledore exhaled a long breath.

"If that is all, then I suggest that you be on your way. These parts of town can be rather dangerous at night."

"If there's anything we can do-"

"There's not," Tom said shortly, rising to his feet. "I have accepted my lot, as should you. Do not come here again."

"Tom, please," Hermione followed him up, crossing the room in a quick few strides. "Just let us _try_. We can help you."

She extended a hand, reaching out for his-

"Don't," he said, grasping her small hand and pushing it back toward her. "You need to leave."

The coldness she had seen in him earlier seemed to shatter at their contact, only for a moment. For a second, he looked the way he'd looked at their last meeting. _Broken. Hurt. Lost._

But as soon as she recognised it, it was gone.

"Please leave," he said quietly, releasing her hand and stepping back.

"Hermione..."

Hermione turned to see Dumbledore and Harry on the feet, Harry clutching their wands while Dumbledore gestured toward the stairs.

Tom turned away, stepping back to lean on the dining table, his shoulders hunching over as he did so. He didn't turn back around.

And as the thud of the door upstairs closing echoed through the living room, the apartment returned to a state of silence. Tom remained motionless, the scent of spice still lingering heavily in the air. _The scent of her._

With a swift movement, Tom turned and kicked the coffee table over, its glass top smashing as it fell against the cold tile.

*

"What are we meant to do?" Hermione asked with only a hint of well-hidden desperation as they crossed the wards of the Hogwarts gates and began up the road to the castle.

"We can't force him," Dumbledore said grimly, slowing his pace. "We can try to make him feel as welcome as possible, but in the end, it's Tom's choice."

"That was not Tom," Harry interrupted firmly, pointing back towards the gates and stopping in his tracks as the other two stopped to stare. "What? You can't tell me that you didn't see it. That... _thing_ back there... he might look like him, talk like him - but that's _not_ him."

"Harry-"

"No. Come on, you _must_ have seen it, you saw him, just as I did. You saw how... _cold_ he was. How detached he was. How his stare would go right through you."

"He's just... lost. If any of us were in his shoes, we'd feel the same. He just needs time to come around. We can't leave him," Hermione interrupted. "He's still one of us, you said it yourself; he _belongs_ at Hogwarts."

As Harry shook his head, Hermione let out a sound of frustration.

"If he's so different, then why did he save you yesterday?" She questioned. " _Yes,_ I'll be the first one to admit that he's changed, but, if he's so... _detached_ , then why didn't he let you die along with Moody?"

"I-" Harry shook his head stubbornly once more. "I don't know why he did that. Maybe there's _something_ there, something of his old self left... or maybe he just wanted to make himself known to us, I don't know. But it doesn't change the facts, it doesn't change what he _is._

"Vampires are _monsters._ You've seen that firsthand, just as I have. They've slaughtered us ruthlessly for _centuries._ They do it for _sport_ , for _fun._ Just because they're changing their tactics and they've turned one of our own... it doesn't change anything. You were right, Albus. I should've listened to you," Harry said with a tone of finality. "Tom is dead. It's time for us to accept that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhh omfg I've gotten so carried away with this, I don't even know what I'm doing anymore, I'm so sorry


	5. Chapter 4. The Love

"That witch who was here yesterday," Draco started. "She's the one in that photo you keep by your bed. Isn't she?"

"None of your business," Tom grumbled from the kitchen, pouring a glass of whiskey.

Draco nodded, his lips turning up ever so slightly with smugness. "Is she why you wear that ring?"

Tom threw his head back and downed the whiskey in a single gulp.

"Is she why you keep rejecting Bella's desper-"

" _I said-_ " Tom interrupted as he slammed the glass back down on the counter, "-none of your business."

"I'll take that as a _yes_ ," Draco mumbled under his breath. "Is she the one who was here the other month? The one who stank your room up for weeks?"

This time, Tom remained silent, opting to send Draco a sharp glare before crossing the room.

"Ah, she _was_ ," Draco concluded, his pleasure at being right deepening. "So, does she not care? About your... ah... _affliction_ , I mean? How utterly romantic."

" _Shut_ the _fuck_ up, Malfoy."

"What? I'm just curious. It's not like I'll _tell_ anyone."

Tom sat without a sound.

"What's it like, then?"

"What's what like?"

" _You know..._ having a witch. I've only ever tasted one once; almost a decade ago, yet I've never forgotten. I just mean... it's hard enough with humans, I couldn't imagine resisting with a witch underneath me."

Tom shifted forward and lifted the empty beer bottle from the side table beside the couch and hurled it towards his roommate's head.

" _Hey!_ " Draco protested, shielding his head at the last moment and successfully preventing what surely would have been a messy head injury. The bottle landed on the tile with a loud smash, and Draco rolled his eyes at the prospect at cleaning the shards as he shifted on the couch. " _Prick._ "

 

* * *

 

"I just don't know what I'm meant to say," said Ron as he ran his hands through his hair. "There's nothing I can do to help."

"I don't think there _is_ anything you can say," Harry said grimly.

The pair fell into a sad silence.

"How long... how long d'you reckon she knew?"

Harry frowned. "Almost two months, she said."

"She's been happier since then. I thought it might've been me, but -" Ron trailed off as he scratched the toe of his shoe against the floor thoughtfully. "She knew where to find him. Where he lives..."

"Yeah," Harry agreed after a tired sigh.

"...Y-you don't think-" Ron started before breaking off to run his hands through his hair again. "Never mind."

"No, go on. What?"

This time, it was Ron who sighed. "Well, y'know, they were _engaged._ And they never exactly broke up, did they? She still wears his ring... so, I mean, if you want to be _technical_ about it, they're still-"

"No," Harry said immediately before thinking about it. "No, I don't think she sees it that way."

"You sure?"

"Yes. She might've found out sooner than us, but she still grieved him, moved on. Not to mention, he's a _vampire._ A soulless... dead... _creature._ Of course she doesn't see it that way."

"Yeah, but... she didn't tell us. She didn't tell _anyone._ "

"Maybe - ah, never mind," Harry decided at the last second.

"Maybe what?"

"Maybe you should just _talk_ to her," Harry suggested. "Tell her where you're at."

"But don't you think it's still a bit... sensitive?"

"That may be, but... you should just be honest with her," said Harry. "I think it's going to be sensitive for a very long time. For everyone."

 

* * *

 

_He tightened his fist in her hair, the bushy, wild mane he saw each night in his dreams. His other hand closed around her throat, the smooth, elegant skin he longed to taste every inch of. He pressed himself flush against her warm body, the body that radiated life, and sunk his teeth deep into the base of her shoulder. His eyes rolled back into his skull as his mouth filled with her blood, the taste sending goose-pimples down his spine._

But no, it was not Hermione.

Never again would it be Hermione.

As the woman in his arms grew lighter, and he felt her sway within his grip, he pulled back. She made an unheard whimper as he let her fall to the ground.

Tom closed his eyes and let the warm throbbing of the blood take over, feeling the rush of energy behind his eyes, reaching all the way down to his fingertips, to the tips of his toes.

He opened his eyes a short while later once the rush had sated, to see that the woman had dragged herself to the other side of the room, leaving a trail of crimson in her wake. He approached where she was now struggling at the door, the woman letting out a shrill yelp as he reached her.

"Be quiet, you daft woman," he snapped, pulling her to her feet. Although she fought weakly against his hold, it wasn't difficult for him to manage to get her over to the bed in the corner of the room. He pushed her down upon it, scowling as she shuffled down to distance herself.

With a subtle roll of his eyes, he stepped back and pulled the door that was far too heavy for her feeble human form open. He let it fall closed behind him, sure that she wasn't fast enough to escape her room before he strode back through toward the heart of the Jester.

The local feeders had never liked him. He wasn't too sure why - they were fond enough of Bella, and even Grindelwald, for that matter. Perhaps it was the way his dark eyes appeared bottomless; perhaps it was the way their instincts would _scream_ at them the moment he entered the room. But whatever the reason was, their reluctance had grown old very quickly. These days, he didn't bother to put himself through the trouble of using the feeders very often, only at times when he found himself particularly agitated in a way that the bagged blood and alcohol and cigarettes couldn't fix. But, he feared those instances would be on the rise in the near future; the only thing that seemed to agitate him enough anymore was Hermione, and at present, he found himself still very much agitated.

He just couldn't get his head around her broken promise. Yes, he'd known that once Harry had caught a glimpse him, it would only be a matter of time before Dumbledore came looking for him. But what he hadn't anticipated, was her leading them straight to his door. On the very next night, no less!

He fell into one of the barstools and ordered another shot of whiskey.

But surely, it had to mean something, didn't it? She'd come rushing back to him with her saviour in tow, asking him to come back. Surely that meant the she didn't _really_ mean what she'd said?

_'I can't do this...'_

_'This has to stop...'_

_'We can't see each other anymore. You're not - you're not good...'_

He groaned and took the shot in a single mouthful, willing the alcohol to make him forget.

"I do _hate_ seeing you over here by yourself, looking so glum."

Tom scoffed and signalled for the barman for another shot.

"What say we head out, lift your spirits with a few of the homeless, hmm?" Grindelwald continued, low in Tom's ear while he rested his long arm over his shoulders.

"No, thank you," he replied stoically, choosing to ignore the way he man's stubble scratched against his skin.

"' _No_ '?" He asked incredulously. "Turning down a free meal?"

"I've just been with Andrea."

"Ah," the blond vampire sounded in understanding. "I'm sure Rodolphus will be most pleasant once he sees you've used his favourite."

Tom downed his second shot, and in an imitation of Bellatrix, grumbled, " _fuck_ Rodolphus."

Grindelwald laughed deeply and stepped back, taking the seat next to Tom and proceeding to order his own drink. While Tom didn't particularly want the company, he was grateful that at least while Grindelwald was drinking, he was keeping his hands to himself.

As the barman poured his drink, Grindelwald turned to look toward the back of the pub, over to where a rowdy congregation of vampires were huddled around a long table. In the centre sat multiple large jugs of a red substance he knew to be blood-laced beer. As he watched, Yaxley went to pour himself another drink, but was bumped as he did so, sending the half-full jug to the ground, spilling its contents on the way down.

"Yes," Grindelwald said thoughtfully, watching as Lestrange burst into a loud, resonating laugh. "Fuck Rodolphus, indeed."

 

* * *

 

"Hullo," Ron greeted, putting as much faux happiness into his voice as he could muster as he took up a spot beside Hermione on the couch of their shared living room.

"Hey," she greeted tiredly, barely glancing up from her book, although it had been a solid twenty minutes since she'd managed to take a single word from the pages in.

"I just thought I'd, y'know, come check up on you."

Her shoulders slumped as she put her book aside, giving up at long last. "That's very kind of you."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them, one which neither of them seemed too eager to break.

"I... ah... this whole thing's pretty fucked up, isn't it," he managed to say without really meaning to, immediately wishing he'd uttered something a little gentler. But, it seemed to be the right thing to say as Hermione began to laugh.

"That's putting it mildly."

"...I'm sorry."

She scoffed as her laughs became hiccups. "Don't be. It's not your fault."

"Yeah, well..."

While Ron's friendship with Hermione had never exactly been _smooth_ , it had always been _easy._ They'd always gotten along, her intelligence and his easy-going nature fitting together like two differently shaped puzzle pieces which complemented the other perfectly. It had been what had drawn him to her in the first place, and had they become close before she'd had the chance to get to know Tom, he was sure they would have easily become something more.

It had most certainly never been awkward between them, and so, Ron felt particularly uncomfortable as the uneasy feeling set in.

"How's Harry doing?" She eventually asked much to his relief, breaking the tension.

"He's... I dunno," Ron answered honestly. "He's sort of, reeling, I guess. He's putting on a brave face, but I think it's getting to him much more than he's letting on."

Hermione nodded, having figured as much out herself.

The two fell into another uncomfortable stretch of silence, one which allowed the sound of the crickets outside to take over.

"Look... I just wanted to say..." he began taking a deep breath to build his courage. _It's now or never,_ he told himself. _Just tell her. You can do it. You're a Gryffindor. Just tell her._

But as she met his eyes, and he saw the way the pain and worry marred her features, his resolve broke. He shook his head, "if you ever want to talk," he eventually said, choosing at last to put his own desires aside, at least for the time being. "Don't ever think that you can't come to me. I'll have your back, no matter what."

Her eyes were wide, and for a short moment he feared she would burst into tears once again. But, she proved him wrong as she sniffed and shifted to wrap her arms around him.

"Thank you."

_There would be another chance,_ he told himself _. A better one. When things settled out, and the news of Tom wasn't quite so raw. There would be another chance._

He was sure of it.

 

* * *

 

_What in the world of fucks was she doing?_

She gripped the strap of her bag over her shoulder tightly, turning to scan her surroundings quickly to ensure that she still wasn't being watched. She took a deep breath and faced the black door, shivering slightly from the cold.

_Just knock. Just do it. Don't think. Just knock._

Before she could decide otherwise, she raised her fist and knocked briskly on the solid surface.

_Too late to turn back now._

She didn't have to wait in the cold for long, the door groaning as it was pulled open less than a minute after she'd knocked. But it wasn't Tom who'd answered the door. Instead, the same weedy, blond vampire who'd answered it the last time stood in the doorway, his eyebrows arching as he recognised her.

"Uh, hi," she said timidly, gripping her wand tightly within the sleeve of her jacket. "I-is Tom here?"

"Yeah," Draco said lazily, extending an arm upward as he leaned against the doorway.

"Um..." she trailed off, trying to withhold another shiver from the cold. "Can I see him?"

The corner of Draco's mouth turned upward. "I suppose," he eventually said, moving his body against the door to give her enough room to pass him.

She frowned, but, determined as ever, she slinked past him into the apartment. Keeping her wand gripped tightly, she made sure the vampire was a few feet away before she began descending down the stairs.

As she made it to the landing of the living room, she immediately started to regret the decision to enter the apartment. For all she knew, Tom wasn't even here. With her wand, she could easily take down the _one_ vampire, sure, but if there were others, she'd have a much harder time of it.

"Take a seat," the blond vampire said, stepping down from the stairs and around to the kitchen. "He shouldn't be long."

She swallowed. "Couldn't you go and get him?"

"I could," he said, leaning up against the counter, the lean muscles of his pale forearms tightening as he did so. " _Or_ , because you seem to be becoming a regular visitor in this neck of the woods, we could get to know each other a little bit."

"I'd rather not," she refused lightly after clearing her throat.

The vampire snorted.

"I'll start then," he stated, not leaving room for question. "You may call me Draco."

She narrowed her eyes.

"Okay, and this is when you tell me _your_ name."

"Hermione," she said, not seeing the harm in telling him her name; as long as he was talking, he wasn't _attacking._

"Her _mi_ one," he repeated, as if tasting the name.

"Yes."

"Hmm. He keeps your photograph, you know."

"I-what?"

"Tom. It's a nice one, if you don't mind me saying. You're not looking at the camera in it, but, you look happy. Happier than you do _now_ , that is."

She quickly found herself speechless. _She didn't know Tom had any photos of her._

"I-thank you, I guess."

"You're welcome."

" _Who are you-_ " Tom's voice broke off as he stepped out of the hallway and saw who Draco was speaking with. Taken completely off guard by her presence, he too, was rendered speechless.

" _Well,_ I suppose that'll be my cue," said Draco, breaking the tension of the apartment with a gesture of his head toward the stairs. Before Tom could so much as acknowledge him, he all but ran out.

The following silence that fell between them as the door fell closed was thick, almost thick enough to _see_ , full of all of the things she'd said to him and all of the things that were yet to be said.

"Are... are you alone?" Tom asked eventually, recovering from his initial surprise.

She nodded.

"Are you _mental?_ " He asked incredulously as he moved out from the doorway.

"I- _excuse me?_ "

"You just-you came here, on your _own?_ " He questioned again before scoffing. "I bet you didn't even tell anyone where you were going, either. Harry hardly would have let you out of his sight."

"I don't need a _keeper-_ "

"Clearly you do. Have you forgotten just how dangerous it is for you out there? Do you not know how many witches have gone missing lately?"

"I... do _you?_ "

Tom's nostrils flared as he realised his mistake. "I hear things," he said eventually. "What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you said you weren't coming back."

She shifted uncomfortably. "I-I know what I said. But I just... I've been having trouble sleeping, lately."

His eyebrow quirked.

"I wanted to apologise," she continued. "I don't want where we stand to change where _you_ stand. I don't want you to make your decision about coming back based on... on us."

Tom shook his head and crinkled his nose. "I told you I wouldn't be coming back the first night I ran into you."

"I _know_ , but I had to be... I had to be sure," she finished quickly.

He watched her thoughtfully before the corner of his mouth twitched and he stepped closer.

"That's quite a flimsy excuse for risking your life," he commented, breaking out in a proper smirk.

Her brows furrowed as she straightened, quickly becoming wary of the way he was closing in on her.

"It's the truth."

"I don't believe you," he said, close enough now that he could do so in a whisper.

"I..."

"You can tell me," he said, a mere step away, close enough for her to make out the tautness of his skin over his cheekbones, only a faint hint of a shadow of his black eye remaining. "What are you _really_ doing here?"

"I told you. I couldn't sleep."

"Hmm," he sounded, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth thoughtfully.

"I didn't like the way we left it," she blurted, something about the depth in his eyes willing her to keep talking. "I shouldn't have just run away like I did, and for that, I'm sorry. But I meant what I said," she added firmly. "You either come back into my life completely, or..."

"You know, the first time you told me that, I believed you," he said, his voice dropping. "But I have been nothing but clear with you of where I stand. You know me well enough to know that I won't change my mind. In order for you to have justified the decision to come back here to yourself, you must have concluded that one of us would cave. Now, as we have just established that that person is not _I,_ that... only leaves... _you._ "

As he spoke, he brought his fingertips to run along her jawline, the feel of his cold skin on hers sending goose-pimples down her neck.

" _I..._ " she breathed as she struggled to find her thoughts amongst the shivers his touch gave her.

"I love you."

She shook her head against his light touch. "Don't say that."

"Would you prefer I lie to you? Torment you? The way you've tormented me?" He closed in further as he spoke, his cool breath brushing on her skin.

She continued to shake her head, unable to find words. "I didn't mean..."

"Every time I close my eyes, I see you. Almost as if you've cursed me, I hear what you said to me playing on repeat, non-stop, relentlessly, _haunting_ me."

The way he spoke, his emotions raw and on his sleeve, in a way that was so unlike the way he'd been before he'd been turned completely threw her off.

"I'm sorry. I-I don't know what I want."

"By being here, you're telling me what you want."

She foolishly met his eyes and was immediately drawn in, like a moth to a flame, an addict to their drug of choice. He may have been paler, bolder, slimmer, _colder_ than the man she fell in love with, but his eyes remained unchanged. They assured her that no matter what happened, no matter what he did, no matter what Harry said, _he was still Tom._ They took her back to a simpler time, back at Hogwarts when they used to bicker over the ethical usage of the Dark Arts, and argue over Harry's friendship, and compete over their knowledge. They reminded her painfully of the night he'd told her how he felt about her, and of the night he'd proposed to her, and of the first night she'd spent in his bed.

But more than anything, they reminded her of how she still loved him. God knew, he could attack her, bite her, and drain her dry, and she would still be hopelessly in love with him.

Not one to let an opportunity pass him by, Tom used the moment of her distraction to his advantage, pulling her flush against him and capturing her lips before she had the chance to move away. Much like his fingertips, his lips were cold, and although it was wrong, certainly not anything even remotely close to what nature had intended, _it felt so right._

"This can't end well," she whispered against him between kisses.

She felt him smile against her lips, and he pulled back long enough to breathe in return, "who said this ever had to end?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh don't mind me, I'll just be over here, drowning in all of my fluff #hopelessromantic  
> also fun fact #1, in my original telling of this story, Harry and Ron's characters are actually one single character, rather than two! the more you know ;)


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